


Moonlight

by surena_13



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surena_13/pseuds/surena_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Laura Roslin/Bill or Lee Adama - Laura wearing his uniform jacket with nothing underneath</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight

**Moonlight**

 

When Bill wakes up, the spot next to him is empty and almost cold. But when he rolls over he can still smell her on thin, uncomfortable pillow, on his own skin, a barely noticeable scent, human, feminine, one that manages to linger in his nose.

 

The tent is dark, save for a sliver of silver light that enters through the small opening between the tent flaps. It doesn’t close properly, but Laura has never mentioned it, despite the fact that a cold draft enters the tent that way, the chilly kind that makes Bill want to wrap himself tighter in the threadbare blanket.

 

He groans as he pushes himself up, the pain from lying on Laura’s bed becoming obvious. How Laura manages to sleep on this night after night and still be so optimistic, is a mystery to him. Blinking sleepily, his eyes adjusting as well as they can to the darkness, he doesn’t see Laura.

 

Mumbling some curse words under his breath, he pulls on his earlier carelessly discarded pants, sucking in his cheeks when the cold fabric slides over his still warm legs. With his muscles protesting, he gets up and slowly exits the tent, despising the cold on his bare chest, wishing he had had the idea to put on his tanks.

 

The city is rather brightly lit by two full moons, so clear on a cloudless sky. A few yards away, her bare feet in the sand, Laura stands. Her upper body is wrapped in something that suspiciously like his uniform jacket. He can see his rank insignia reflecting in the cold light. Her long legs are exposed to the cool night air, her thick, unruly hair shining in the moonlight.

 

Bill wishes he had a camera with him, just so he could have captured this moment and kept it with him, so the memory wouldn’t fade. Laura Roslin, bathing in the light of two moons, looking more beautiful than the goddesses themselves, hugging herself while she looks up at the spectacular sight in the sky.

 

He walks up behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders. She tenses, but doesn’t speak, doesn’t take her eyes of the moons. Laura merely puts a hand on one of his and just lets it rest there. Her fingertips cold against his skin. He briefly wonders how long she has been out here, why she would stand in this cold wearing so little.

 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah,” he mumbles and wraps her arms around her waist, pulling her against him. She sighs and smiles, leaning back, her head on his shoulder. He softly kisses her temple, the mustache brushing against her skin.

 

As Laura explains the uniqueness of this phenomenon in whispered words, the soft tones carrying far in the silence that covers the city, Bill slides his hands over her thighs, slipping them under the wool of the jacket. He smiles when he doesn’t encounter any fabric, just bare flesh and soft curls. Even under his jacket she is freezing cold, like stone. He’s afraid the warmth of his hands might burn her.  

 

“You don’t really care, do you?” she asks when one of his hands moves up, caressing her stomach, her ribs and gently cups one her breasts as the other settles on her stomach.

 

“No,” he whispers. Laura laughs softly and tilts her head, kissing him. Their position doesn’t allow for a deep, lingering kiss, but Bill simply enjoys the feeling of Laura’s lips against his own. Breaking the kiss for a moment, Laura turns around in his arms, kissing him again, her hands on his chest.

 

“Gods, Laura, you’re like ice. Aren’t you cold?” He takes her hands off of his chest, holding them in his hands, kissing her fingers.

 

“No,” Laura says, looking up at him. She looks so alive, so unlike the woman he saw a year ago in a hospital bed, so close to her death.

 

“Want me to prove it?” Bill raises his eyebrows. Laura disentangles herself from his arms and shrugs out of his jacket, leaving her naked as the jacket pools in the sand at her feet.

 

“Laura, are you frakking insane?” Bill hisses and takes a step closer to her, but Laura steps back, avoiding him. He sighs and picks up  the jacket, holding it out for her.

 

“No Bill, I’m alive and I’m free. The cancer is gone, I’m no longer the frakking President. I have you.” For each step he moves closer, Laura takes two steps back. Her pale skin is covered in goose bumps and even in the silver light Bill can see that her fingers are turning blue. She’s freezing.

 

“Laura just put on the jacket. You’ll get sick or someone will see you.”

 

“I don’t give a frak. For the first time since the apocalypse I can do what I want and I like it. I can watch the moons, run around naked and I can frak the Admiral of the fleet without being bothered with the political consequences.” Bill takes a few steps closer, but Laura holds out her hands. She’s shivering and every muscle in her body is tense.

 

“Laura, please,” Bill begs. Laura smiles.

 

“Kiss me,” she asks, orders and steps closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. She’s even colder than she was before. Standing on her toes, her breasts press against her skin. Bill wraps his jacket around her shoulders and kisses her trembling lips slowly, hoping to pass some of his heat on to her, sliding his hand over her soft skin of her back.

 

“Let’s go inside,” Bill says and forces her in the right direction. To his surprise Laura doesn’t fight him, but walks with him, one of her hands on his stomach as the other holds the jacket closed.

 

“Bill?” she asks softly when he holds open the tent flap for her. He stops, holding on to her waist, afraid she’ll slip away again. Her eyes are downcast when she speaks again. Her words no more than a whisper. “I think I could be happy here.”

 

Placing his fingers under her chin, Bill lifts her head. He waits patiently until Laura looks at him, the green of her so clear in the moonlight. She’s afraid to be happy on New Caprica, scared that this fragile life she is building for herself can fall apart any second. He presses his lips against her forehead.

 

“I think I could be too,” he declares. Laura smiles weakly. She takes another look at the two full moons and shakes her head, barely unnoticeable. Bill decides to let the movement slide. Laura looks tired and still incredibly cold. He guides her inside the tent, closing the flap as far as possible behind him

 

Laura takes off the jacket and folds it, putting it on the rickety chair she owns. Bill watches as she puts on some woolen socks and then pulls the knitted sweater over her head. As she slides into bed, Bill takes off his pants and crawls in behind her, putting his arms around and pulling her as close to his body as possible. Burying  his face in her hair, he exhales slowly. He could be happy here, with her. 


End file.
